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Rodent Issues

I got what may have been the worst of news for a bona-fide Internet junkie: to lay off the mouse. I didn’t know you could get the equivalent of carpel tunnel in your shoulder, thanks to the massive hours I spend on the computer between home and work. The shoulder feels pretty much like it was hit by a mack truck, and until recently there was no easing up enough to sleep or get even moderately comfy. I could at least deal with it – sort of – until my sadistic chiro tackled it this week.

I don’t cry easily but lemme tell you, I was yelping and begging for mercy before he was done Friday afternoon. And he laid down the law: lay off the computer mouse as much as possible, period, and invest in one of those nasty trackball mice. That type of mouse is itself my version of sheer torture. I loath the things. They make me crazy!

For tonight I found a compromise: I swiped the kid’s laptop. Since the only mouse is integrated and doesn’t require me to hold my arm at an unnaturally high angle (which is the origin of the problem,) I’m at least able to navigate my way online. It’s not a problem at the moment: the daughter’s not here now. She left her laptop with us because she’d picked up a nasty virus or three and wanted us to clean it. That was a piece-o-cake for me. Her computer’s nice and clean now and has a few good healthy levels of protection installed. I still need to install Glary Utilities and ZoneAlarm,, but I’ll do those tonight or tomorrow.

The day brought a truly annoying moment, too, and I’m reminded of why I went underground, virtually speaking, a few years back. My ex-husband, the one my kids have dubbed the Brain Fart, managed to track down my FB account and sent me a typically irrational message. I hadn’t heard from him in several years – not since before G came into my life. I told the ex to lay off or deal with the police up close and personal, and for a while that worked. I guess his brain’s still farting along.

Might be interesting to sic G on the ex. In this one I’d definitely bet on G. Might be fun, in fact, because whatever else he may or may not be, G isn’t an imbecile. The ex gives imbeciles a bad name. I don’t know if G would enjoy playing with his food like I’ve been known to do. He might look, roll his eyes, and give the ex a virtual or physical bitch slap. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind that either, heh.

Still kind of this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach to hear from that particular asshole. I rarely discuss him here because frankly I tend to forget about him 99 percent of the time. And when I do think of him it’s little more than a passing moment, kind of like gas that isn’t anything to note once it’s passed. I really don’t want to deal with him at all, don’t want to see or be bothered by him. He doesn’t live here, doesn’t know where I live, and I like it that way. If he has any delusions of rekindling anything he’s even dumber than I thought before – and that’s pretty dumb.

I’d already been toying with the thought of just deleting my FB account. This might just be the mental bump I needed to make it happen. I connected with some friends and family there, so would need to email them separately to let them know what I’m doing and why, but the longer I think the more appealing it is to just dump the whole thing.

Pisses me off, just the same.

Spent a few hours tonight up close and personal with one of those electrical-shock machines for pain, switching off between shoulder and knee. I don’t know how they work but they definitely do help. Late as it is, I need to lock up and shut down and call it a night.

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